


hello, everything! | request collection

by FabulousPotatoSister



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Kissing, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, requests from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister
Summary: i wanted to put all of my ask requests from tumblr onto one place, so here they are! you'll find a little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, and a little bit of both here.come say hi to me at my tumblr (@fabulouspotatosister) uwu
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. here to help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "just breathe, okay?" requested by the lovely [@jonasquinns](jonasquinns.tumblr.com) ❤

This was a mistake.

The part of your brain that was freaking out was throwing a fit, metaphorical alarm bells ringing out and touching every thought with panic. The more lucid part of your brain sighed and made a note, adding it to a list of mistakes that was now growing by the minute.

When you said you wanted a break from travelling with the Doctor, you meant a break from the hectic atomosphere, near-death experiences, and general stress that those near death experiences caused. You should have been happy, really, when the Doctor dropped you off back on Earth in the middle of a hectic school week. Projects and assignments were things you could control.

That was something you stopped believing a few minutes ago.

The quiet hum of your ceiling fan was a constant, at least. The only light in the room was the bright glow of your laptop screen, settled on an empty document, with at least fifty tabs open on your browser. The poor thing was probably overheating, the keyboard keys already growing warm under your touch.

You _definitely_ needed a time machine right now.

“Why’d I tell her to drop me off today? Oh yeah, _give me just a few hours to deal with all the things that have piled up since I left, I can totally deal with that_ ,” you groaned to yourself. The light of the laptop screen was stabbing, making your eyes burn with the effort to see past it and look at the measly amount of words you had typed. “I’ve done this before! Why is this so hard today?”

It was true. You were the king of pulling all-nighters - a habit that unfortunately followed you onto the TARDIS. Living on a time machine and still staying up late. That must have been a special talent of yours.

You’d set your phone face down on your desk, the buzzing of notifications fading into the background like everything else did, creating a symphony from a cacophany of noises. This was a symphony you were supposed to be used to, background music for your battle against deadlines and unhelpful classmates. Challenging and triumphant.

Tonight, it was doubt and fear with just a hint of giving up sprinkled in.

You leaned back in your chair, taking a deep breath in to loosen the knots in your stomach, and picked up your phone. A fifteen-minute break couldn’t hurt, right? Maybe that would be the thing to bring back some of your motivation.

You had spent the entire night making mistakes. Picking up your phone was the worst one.

You were hit with a barrage of messages, ranging from patient questions to aggressive queries in all caps.

_“hey, we kind of need that thing by tonight”_

_“Hello? Where are you? Pick up the phone, please!”_

_“you still working on that? anyway i can help?”_

_Anyway I can help?_

Time passes, time doesn’t _wait_ , and you were wasting so much of it trying to catch up. Trying to to everything yourself. You glanced at the time - 10 PM - you only had two hours and if you didn’t get everything done you would let so many people down.

Your room was already small - the walls just seemed to get smaller. All the background noise rose to a deafening crescendo, your panic starting to overwhelm all of your senses - everything was just too much, there was just so much, and you just wanted it to be -

“What’s going on? Hello?”

_Quiet_. It all went quiet for a precious moment as you saw the Doctor’s head peek out from behind your bedroom door. The sight of her face was enough to make your chest constrict even tighter.

“Broke in. Sorry,” she said quietly, opening the door slowly and stepping inside. “Before you ask, I know my sonic doesn’t work on wood, but I have my methods. Do apologize to your mum for me, and pick up some of the glass -” She paused, her gaze stopping at your face. “What’s with that face?”

A distraction, you needed a distraction. “You broke a window?”

“I didn’t exactly break it, I maneuvered my way in!” the Doctor whispered, proudly, before her face fell again. “That’s a fancy way of saying I broke it. I _am_ sorry!”

You tried a laugh, and it came out more like a strangled noise from the back of your throat. Your thoughts were racing a mile a minute, and you were vaguely aware of a pain in your palms - you looked down to see that you were gripping the armrests of your chair.

The Doctor said your name, slowly, like she was throwing out a lifeline. “Are you alright?”

“ _Fine_. Totally fine.” And totally instinctual. “Why are you here?”

“You weren’t answering our messages,” the Doctor explained. She moved closer to you, standing not too far away from where you were sitting. You hoped she didn’t get too close. “I - _we_ got worried, so I came to check on you.”

Oh, you’d flipped over your phone. Your phone with all the messages and the reminders of deadlines. You shuddered. The Doctor seemed to catch that, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She was inches away now, her hands hovering in the air. “You can talk to me, if you’d like. I don’t give the best advice but I will listen.”

If she moved any closer you would probably burst into tears - with a well-placed push of your foot against the floor, your chair skidded backwards, away from her and any comfort you felt like you didn’t deserve.

“I’m a mess,” you said. You squinted, her face suddenly blurry in the dark. “I’m a mess and I don’t know how to deal with things properly.” You just couldn’t stop talking now, the words coming out in short bursts. “There’s just so much going on and I have to catch up with all of it and -”

There were hands on your shoulders, now. You looked up to see the Doctor’s face just inches away from yours.

**“Just breathe, okay?”** she murmured, holding you squarely in place. “Breathe. We’ll find a way through this, yeah? Just breathe for me. That’s right, in and out. Perfect!”

You found something to focus on - her eyes shone even in the dark, and her hair reflected the faint light of the moon coming in through your window. You took in deep lungfuls of air, marveling at the way the Doctor’s face lit up with every deep breath you took.

“Sorry,” you muttered, with a wry laugh. The Doctor raised an eyebrow in question - “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I really _am_ a mess -”

“Don’t call yourself that,” the Doctor countered immediately. The conviction in her voice squashed the small voice in your head that told you she was lying. “You are not a mess. You are brilliant and determined and you can do this. We can do this.”

The Doctor - an indescribable alien that traveled through time and space and was incredible in her own way - was calling you brilliant. It made you feel warm, and you let a smile form on your face, watching as the Doctor smiled back.

“There we are.” The Doctor beamed. “Now, come with me - and bring your laptop.”

“Wait a minute, what?” you asked - but she was already rushing out the door. “Doctor, wait! Why?”

The Doctor poked her head through the door, grinning widely. “Time machine! Get a shift on! I haven’t written an essay in years, let’s see if I can remember anything from the great authors of Iambos…”

Her voice trailed off as she got farther away. You stared in shock at the door for a moment before laughing quietly, shutting your laptop and running after the Doctor.

Maybe you didn’t make mistakes all the time.


	2. just like her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "thank you, for everything." + "what are you doing?", requested by [@carol-thirteen](carol-thirteen.tumblr.com) ❤

“Don’t do this,” the Doctor pleaded, “we could just escape together. You could walk away from this.”

The Doctor didn’t like being told what to do. You knew that. You didn’t either. You pushed the lever down, straining against it - you heard a heavy _thunk_ in the distance, and the whole room rocked.

“No, no -” The Doctor reached out, her hands pressing against the barrier that came between the two of you. Her voice was frantic, filtered by the speakers in the room you were in. “ **What are you doing?** ”

“What I have to do,” you said. Someday, you would regret this. If you would live another day to regret it. “You have to get out of here!”

The Doctor took a deep breath in, fear swimming in her eyes. “The entire ship is going to self-destruct! With you on it!”

“And that’s why I’m telling you to leave,” you stressed, “right now! _Please_!”

A screen flickered to life, not too far away from the lever. **5 MINUTES TO ACTIVATION OF PRECAUTIONARY MEASURES** , it read. **PLEASE STAY SEATED.**

“Five minutes,” the Doctor read, glancing at the screen. She turned to look at you, her eyes wide. “That’s enough time for you to escape! Come on, get a shift on, five minutes isn’t nearly enough time!”

She was talking like you were going to get out of this. The Doctor bolted to the doors of your chamber, raising her sonic screwdriver and pointing it against the lock of the door - nothing happened.

“Wait, why can’t I open the doors?” The Doctor peered at her sonic, frowning deeply at the results. “This should work, unless there’s something preventing me from bypassing the lock on the door -”

_The ship had to go down with her captain_ , you realized.

She moved around quickly, but you could see her shoulders shaking. “Doctor,” you called out, “I really mean it. You need to leave.”

“And I really mean it, I am not leaving here without you,” the Doctor replied, still waving her sonic around.

You glanced at the screen again. **3 MINUTES TO ACTIVATION OF PRECAUTIONARY MEASURES**. “Doctor, come on! Someone has to stay behind!”

The Doctor’s face cycled through a range of emotions - confusion, anger, grief. She eventually settled on anger, her eyebrows furrowed so deeply that tell-tale line appeared between them.

“I’m _not_ leaving you!” she yelled, her palms hitting the foggy glass. They barely made a sound, their rhythm mixing with the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“You have to!” you shot back, and watched as she took a step backwards. It was an echo of another exchange, a mirror of the sacrifice she’d attempted not too long ago.

If this was the last time you ever saw her - separated by a thick pane of glass - you took a good look. She was radiant, even when she was surrounded by the wreckage of a spaceship that was falling apart. The flickering light of the fires that burned around her just made her glow, making her seem like a walking star.

“Hey,” you said, softly, even though everything was falling apart around you, “listen to me. People still need you. The universe still needs you.”

The Doctor shook her head, and when she looked at you her eyes were wet. “No, _you_ listen to me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “ _I_ still need you.”

“I know.” _More than anything_. “You taught me to live. **Thank you, for everything**.”

**2 MINUTES TO ACTIVATION OF PRECAUTIONARY MEASURES**. A loud beeping noise rang clear, and the Doctor looked up at the ceiling, tinged red with fire and blackened by explosions.

“Go,” you whispered. You would not cry in front of her. This was something that you chose to do and you would not go softly. “If I die, I die protecting the ones I love. I’d say that’s a life well-lived.”

A tremor rocked the room again, and the Doctor stumbled. She stared at you, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth open like she still had so many things to say -

“Doctor, _run_!” you screamed.

She did not turn around to run. She kept her eyes on you as she backed away from the room, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

On your travels, you’d meet people that compared you and the Doctor. They’d tell you that you were too much like her, that you were reckless and hopeful - you took things she did and made them your own. _So that’s what they meant_ , you thought, and as the room burst into white, for once you welcomed the comparison.


	3. distracting kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing with 11 would be adorable”, requested by anon ❤

“I’m _busy_.”

“ _Right_ , you’re busy,” the Doctor grumbles. “I’ve got a time machine, all of space and time out there. What are you doing _baking_?”

“Shh!” You glare at the Time Lord, lifting a finger to your lips, and he deflates, settling into one corner of the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me you had a _kitchen_.”

“It never came up!” the Doctor almost shouts, and you shoot him another glare. He shuts up.

“I’ve been asking you to take me home every time I want to cook,” you say, standing on your tiptoes and reaching out for a jar of yeast, “but there’s been a kitchen right here and you never bothered to tell me - _yeah_ , there’s a swimming pool, but you’re not gonna tell me about the kitchen?”

You hear a chair scrape against the floor as the Doctor moves to stand behind you. His hands settle on your waist, his touch featherlight as he keeps you steady.

“Ah-ah,” you tut, finally grabbing the yeast jar, “you don’t get to do that when I’m doing something.”

The Doctor huffs, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. “Do what?” he murmurs, his voice low. His fingers brush against your hair, gently pushing the strands out of the way so he can press a soft kiss to your neck.

“Be clingy.” You giggle and turn around to face him. “Now be nice or you’re not having any cinnamon rolls.”

“I’m _not_ clingy,” the Doctor says, indignantly, even as his arms snake further around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “And I _am_ being nice.”

You wiggle out of his grasp, grinning as he makes a plaintive noise, crossing his arms over his chest to make up for the fact that you aren’t there anymore. “Okay… milk. You’ve got milk, right?”

“You’re in an interdimensional spaceship, of course I’ve got milk,” the Doctor says, waving his hands around, “and also everything else. Did I mention? Spaceship?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” you stress. You close the fridge door with your leg, dropping the carton of milk onto the counter. You drop down to your knees and slide open a cabinet, rifling through metal utensils and things that look like they should not be in a kitchen. “Did I mention? Busy?”

The Doctor groans. He’s there beside you when you get up again, peering at his own reflection in the bowl. “Do you have a recipe?”

“Of course,” you tilt your head towards an old, folded up piece of paper with measurements scribbled onto it. “I hid it in the back of my phone in case I needed it, and - _hey_!”

You jump in surprise when the Doctor wraps one arm around your waist. The milk in the measuring cup you’re holding sloshes dangerously, a few drops threatening to fall onto the floor. “Doctor, if you keep doing this, I’m gonna spill it!”

The Doctor just hums in reply. He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek - and then, leaning further in, to the corner of your mouth. You push down the urge to giggle again at how adorable he looks, big green eyes filled with longing. Instead, you sigh and tip one cup of milk into the bowl.

“Come on,” the Doctor whispers, tugging you closer to his side. You twist so that you’re facing him, and he leans in again to peck your lips. “ _Stay_.”

“I _am_ staying.” You press your hands against his chest. You smile up at him, and you swear you feel his hearts stutter under your palms. Two can play at that game. “You know, if you’re gonna keep being distracting, I might as well…”

“Might as well what - _oh_!”

You grasp the front of his shirt and pull him down to kiss him. The Doctor doesn’t even have time to make a noise of surprise before he settles into the kiss, his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. You smile against his lips at the noises he’s making, at the way you’re pulling him in.

“There,” you breathe when you pull away. A laugh bubbles out of you at the sight of the Doctor - ruffled, breathless, eyes wide. “I’m gonna give you a job. Butter. In the microwave.”

The Doctor just stares at you. His eyes flicker down your lips and he swallows, almost nervous. “R-right,” he stutters out. Then, as an afterthought: “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek. He melts under your touch. “Now please? Can you melt some butter in the microwave?”

“Okay,” the Doctor says, straightening. He smiles dopily, hands flying up to pat down the wrinkles on his shirt. “Okay. Anything for you.”

You laugh and gently push him away, watching as he staggers backward, eyes still trained on you. “Eyes on the microwave, space man.”

“I could sonic it! Make it go faster!”

“I am not letting you blow up your own kitchen.”


	4. it's getting hot in here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting”, requested by anon! ❤

"Do you need any help with that?”

The Doctor looks up. You’re peering down at him through the TARDIS’s transparent floor, arms crossed over your chest. He pulls his goggles down so they rest on his neck and smiles at you - you grin back.

“No, I’m fine,” he says, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the wires in front of him. It fizzes and sparks, and he hears you yelp, the sound high-pitched and impossibly… _cute_? You laugh nervously after, and the Doctor mentally kicks himself. “It’s supposed to do that. Completely fine down here. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” You shrug, pulling at the sleeves of your button-up shirt. “Just checking in on you. Can I have a look? Is that okay?”

_Always_ , the Doctor wants to say, but he swallows his words and nods instead, snapping his goggles back into place. You laugh and bound down the steps.

“Oh-ho! What a mess,” you say, scrunching your face up. The expression makes the Doctor’s hearts flip in his chest - a feeling he isn’t completely unfamiliar with. “I don’t know how you work down here.”

The Doctor hides his ~~crush~~? ~~dumb expression of affection on his face~~? ~~stupid~~ feelings behind an indignant huff. “I work very well down here, thank you very much.” He jabs a finger at you, accusingly, and you have the audacity to raise your eyebrows at him in mock offense. “It’s _my_ ship.”

“It’s still a mess. You need any help?” you ask again, and the Doctor blinks. Once. Twice. The shirt hanging off your frame looks too much like one of his. Add some braces and a bowtie and you’d look just like him, except… _oh_ , _he’s_ a mess, he thinks.

“Pass me that refraction expander,” he says.

You jump up enthusiastically, then raise your eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry?”

The Doctor spins his hand around, thankful that his goggles are tinted so he doesn’t have to keep looking at you. “Spinny thing on your left. It looks a bit like a whisk, except it isn’t, because it’s a refraction expander.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the word. Your hands travel up to your sleeves and you roll them up, revealing your bare forearms - the Doctor’s big Time Lord brain, for lack of a better word, short-circuits at the sight.

For goodness sake, it’s just your _arms_. Why is he getting so worked up over your _arms_? This is his fault, isn’t it - he’d promised to take you to the Lobarian system, where one of the planets had an incredibly warm climate. He didn’t take you to enough warm planets, he hadn’t built up an immunity to your arms - and, he realizes as you brush your hair out of your face, your shirt unbuttoned just enough to have a little bit of your chest peeking out, he hasn’t built up an immunity to the _rest of you_.

**“Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting,“** the Doctor mutters. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and you stop in your tracks, the refraction expander held tightly in one hand.

"Excuse me?” you ask - the Doctor balks, and he waves his hands in front of his face, his cheeks burning.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” the Doctor says quickly, “forget I said anything.”

You hand him the refraction expander silently, your fingertips brushing against his palm, and the Doctor shudders. He watches you smile widely, understanding dawning on your face.

“Ah,” you say simply, something dangerous glinting in your eyes. You roll your sleeves up further. “Alright. Sorry. It is kinda hot in here, isn’t it, Doctor?”

_Yes, it is,_ the Doctor thinks, and he swallows nervously. It’s going to be a very long day on the TARDIS.


	5. a beautiful moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—” + head on the shoulder, requested by anon! ❤

Space was so pretty. You could say it, think it a million times over and still completely believe it. The ever-shifting landscape of the cosmos was something that you could never get tired of looking at.

…except now. Had the beauty of space always been so… sleep inducing?

The Doctor had parked the TARDIS in front of a nebula - the birthplace of stars, a cradle of celestial life. Its colors shifted and blurred in front of your eyes, creating a new image every time you blinked.

To be fair, you were _really_ tired.

“ _Ah_! Ooh! Very good, very good indeed, you’re welcome, Captain,” the Doctor said behind you. His footsteps were loud against the haze that filled your brain, and you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as if that would keep the noise out. “I’ve just received a transmission back from the Veros, they say they’re doing fine thanks to us. I’d say that’s a job well done! Now, after a few tweaks to the TARDIS, how about -”

The Doctor trailed off. Now there was only silence, and the humming of the TARDIS. Taking a deep breath in, you closed your eyes and tipped forward -

“Gotcha!”

Steady hands pulled you backwards. You jolted, blinking blearily. The Doctor had caught you. “Don’t want you falling out of the TARDIS and into space now, do we?”

His voice was much softer now. You hummed in reply. The Doctor shifted, sitting down beside you, an arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you steady.

“Good parking spot,” you said tiredly.

“I didn’t pick it, the Veros did. They just got lucky, parking next to a nebula.” The Doctor let out a dreamy sigh. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” A yawn bubbled past your lips, and you curled into yourself. The air shell didn’t exactly keep things warm. You shuddered, your arms still wrapped around yourself. You were still looking out into space, but you could feel the Doctor’s eyes on you. “Yeah. _Really_ pretty.”

The Doctor was quiet for a moment. Your eyes slipped shut, your chin falling to rest on your chest - the haze in your mind was stronger now, pulling you towards dreamland.

**“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”**

Then, you felt fingers gingerly brush against your forehead, pushing strands of hair away from your face, tucking them carefully behind your ears. The Doctor’s touch was impossibly gentle, his hand trailing down to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Much better.”

“I could just get a headband,” you mumbled, and the Doctor chuckled.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” he whispered, tangling his hand in your hair and pulling you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Come on. Lean on me.”

“But the TARDIS -” you protested faintly.

The Doctor hushed you. “She’ll be fine. I’ve parked her, remember? _You_ need to get some rest.”

You leaned to the side, your head coming to rest on the Doctor’s shoulder. You let a small smile settle on your lips as you drifted off, feeling completely safe in the Doctor’s arms.

_(Space definitely was beautiful. The Doctor could never get tired of it, of its unending beauty and mystery. But, the Doctor realized, looking down at your peaceful face as you nestled into his side, there were things much more beautiful than space.)_


	6. the little things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve never noticed this scar before.", requested by [@yourneighborhoodclown](yourneighborhoodclown.tumblr.com) ❤

“Doctor, this isn’t the TARDIS.”

“Yeah, I can see that!”

You pressed your hands against the wall in front of you. Concrete, if you had to guess. The sonic whirred behind you and a small light flickered to life above you, one tiny old lightbulb.

“Standard supply closet,” the Doctor said, pointing his sonic at the dusty shelves on the walls. “Nothing useful in here, at least not anymore.”

“Yeah, and it’s not the TARDIS!” you yelled, and the Doctor winced. “Did you just run in here thinking it was the TARDIS?”

“Just following my instincts!” The Doctor raised his hands. “In my defense, the door was blue.”

“The door was _blue_? Your instincts suck,” you said, sighing. The Doctor tucked his sonic screwdriver back into his jacket, pouting at you like an angry child who’d just been told off. You pouted back. “And now we’re in a tiny supply closet.”

There was a small click. The Doctor whirled around - as much as he could whirl around in a tiny space - and rattled the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

“Locked?” you asked.

“Locked,” the Doctor confirmed.

“That’s just great.” You would have spread your arms out in frustration, if you had the space. “Then sonic it open so we can get out of here!”

The Doctor pressed his ear against the door. His eyes darted around as he listened. “That might be a bad idea, actually,” he said softly. “Listen.”

You stepped closer to the Doctor and pressed your own ear against the door - there was distant marching, and some yelling of orders. You stiffened as the marching grew louder, the sounds of mechanical whirring and clicking inching closer and closer to the door.

“They’re still looking for us,” you said, breathless. “Okay, maybe your instincts are alright.”

“See? Everything according to plan,” the Doctor whispered, smiling. “We stay in here until they pass us by.”

“Good plan.” You closed your eyes, straining your hearing. The marching had stopped, but the mechanical noises were still there. Faintly, you heard the sound of something powering up - a low hum rising in intensity. “Do you know what that sound is?”

The Doctor hummed.

“Doctor,” you tried again, “did you hear that?”

The Doctor was still silent, and you groaned under your breath, your eyes flying open. “Am I the only one who’s concerned about - _oh_.”

The Doctor was staring at you. His normally frantic gaze was surprisingly still, his eyes firmly set on your face. _No, he isn’t staring_ , you realized. _He’s looking, searching… admiring? Maybe those aren’t the right words._

“Doctor?” you ventured. The Doctor wordlessly reached out. “What’s going on?”

The Doctor’s thumb brushed against your left cheekbone. “Nothing, it’s just… **I’ve never noticed this scar before.** ”

Your face burned, your mouth hanging open. The Doctor could probably feel that. “What - _now_?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor murmured. He swallowed, blinking slowly. “Sorry. I - I haven’t been looking.”

“At?”

“At _you_ ,” he said, slowly and softly. The whole world faded into the background, and it was just you and the Doctor, nearly nose to nose, crammed together in a tiny room. “Well, I mean I do look at you, _constantly_ , but not like this.”

“Ah,” you said, eloquently. “You look at me?”

“Yeah, but not in a creepy way.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Maybe in a creepy way. The point is, I can’t _not_ look at you. I notice things. You’re just - you -” The Doctor waved his hands in the general direction of your face. “You’re _brilliant_. And I -”

_Bang!_ You jumped at the sound just behind the door. The low hum started up again, and so did the marching - you held your breath as it grew louder and louder.

You locked eyes with the Doctor. Waiting. The marching and noises grew to an almost deafening crescendo, and then - _and then_ \- they faded away, travelling in the other direction.

You exhaled, your entire body relaxing. An incredulous smile spread over your face and the Doctor mirrored it, relief in his eyes.

“You know what? I’ll tell you later.” The Doctor grinned, whipping out his sonic and pointing at the locked door. “Here’s the plan. I open this door and we run in the other direction as fast as we can.”

“I love that plan,” you said. “You know, I look forward to it.”

“To the running?”

“No, to what you’re gonna tell me later. Now come on - the door?”

The sonic whirred and the door opened with a quiet pop. You grabbed the Doctor’s hand. “Let’s go. You’re not gonna keep me waiting, are we?”

The Doctor beamed, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	7. not now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay still. You’ve been wounded.”, requested by the lovely [@nobxdy](nobxdy,tumblr.com) ❤

“Oh, I swear, every time -”

The Doctor’s voice drifts through your foggy mind, his words sharp and hushed. You blink slowly. Above you, a dim light swings back and forth, casting shadows over the Doctor’s face as he fusses over you.

“Humans, you’re so self-sacrificing,” the Doctor continues. “I tell you to stay behind me, but what do you do? The exact opposite. _Right_. Next time -”

“D-Doctor,” you call out, your voice small. Every inch of your body hurts, and you don’t even know where you are. The room shudders, and the light above you flickers. The Doctor growls under his breath.

“You lot, you’re so _fragile_! And of course, you have to jump in front of a bullet meant for _me_ -”

_A bullet_? You try again, louder: “Doctor!”

The Doctor falls silent, his frantic gaze stopping on your face.

“What happened?” you ask. The Doctor’s eyes widen slightly, and he goes right back to fussing, his gaze flickering to your forehead. Trembling fingers peel hair away from your face. The Doctor’s fingers come away bright red.

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought, much worse,” the Doctor mutters. **“Stay still. You’ve been wounded.”**

He’s using that voice of his, his bossy voice, and a small petulant part of you wants to jump to your feet and prove him wrong - then you shift, and the whole world goes _red_.

The Doctor’s face darkens at the gasp that escapes you. His hands find their way onto your face as you ride out the pain, taking in small, shuddering breaths. It hurts, it _hurts_ , it -

“I know, I’m sorry,” the Doctor says quietly. He brushes away your tears, his touch tender despite the piercing pain in your shoulder.

“Am I - am I gonna be okay?”

The Doctor doesn’t hesitate. “Of course you are. You’re going to be fine.”

He never does that. “Don’t - don’t lie to me, p-please.”

“Believe me, I’m not lying to you,” the Doctor whispers. There’s another bang, and the light flickers once more. With the light behind him he looks almost like an angel. “I _promise_ , you are going to get out of this alive.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyway. A small flicker of hope finds its way into the Doctor’s eyes, and it’s enough to make you feel just a little bit better. “Okay.”

“Okay,” the Doctor echoes. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut - something wet falls onto your cheek. It rolls off your face and onto the cold floor. “Don’t do that again. I can’t lose you. I _can’t_.”

The Doctor’s hands are so warm against your face. “I love you.”

The Doctor chuckles, but it sounds almost bitter. “Not now, sweetheart, not now.”

“No, that’s why I did it,” you mumble. The Doctor’s hands are so warm, almost searing against your skin - you’re getting cold, now. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt as much, too… that’s good, right? No pain is good… “Because I - I -”

The Doctor lets out a ragged sob. The sound bounces off the walls of the tiny room. “No - _I mean it_ , not now. Not when I might not get the chance to say it back.”

The room shakes, and the Doctor scoops you up - you hang limp in his arms, but he’s hanging on tight for the both of you. You can’t see the tears streaming down his face, nor can you see the fire blazing in his eyes, but you can hear his voice, soft reassuring words cutting through the fog in your mind.

As everything fades into darkness, you’re praying - praying to every last god in the universe - that the Doctor gets his chance. Because you’re not sure what he’s going to do if he doesn’t.


	8. knock, knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not in bed. I came looking for you.” + head on chest, playing with hair, requested by anon ❤

You’re gone.

The Doctor cycles through a range of emotions - panic, confusion, a hint of amusement, relief, and then right back to panic. Panic isn’t new to the Doctor, but this isn’t a life-threatening kind of panic. _It could be,_ he thinks to himself, then throws the offending thought into the back of his mind where it belongs.

He peers into your room. Your bed is empty. The sheets are rumpled, thrown aside in a hurry, but your pillows are neatly stacked. The lights in your room are dim, mimicking the brightness of a very early morning. Nothing looks particularly out of place.

It quells the Doctor’s panic slightly. Only slightly, though. The Doctor’s gaze catches on a bandage, lying crumpled on the floor, stained with blood. Yesterday’s bandages, if he had to guess. Something prods at his hearts at the sight. He doesn’t let it in.

The Doctor steps out into the TARDIS hallways, shutting your door behind him with a soft click. “Where has she gone, Sexy?” he asks softly.

The TARDIS hums, almost thoughtfully. _Where else_?

The Doctor finds you standing near the TARDIS doors. They’re open, just enough so that you could reach out and close them yourself - because you opened them by yourself, the Doctor realizes. You leaned out and opened the doors by yourself instead of asking the TARDIS for help.

_Knock, knock_ , says the thing that’s been prodding at his hearts. _You can’t run from me forever._

He takes a moment to look at you. The Doctor’s observant. Today that gift is both a blessing and a curse - you look adorable, with your messy hair, bundled up in a thick blanket that you’ve haphazardly thrown over your shoulders. But you’re so small too, hiding your fragile self under your cozy blanket, frighteningly still.

The Doctor calls your name. You jump at the sound of his voice and turn around to face him, your face drawn.

**“You’re not in bed,”** he says softly. **“I came looking for you.”**

You blink at him, wrapping your blanket tighter around yourself. “Sorry,” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper. You turn your gaze back towards the stars outside. “I’m just - I’ve been thinking a lot.”

The Doctor walks slowly, moving to stand beside you. He keeps his distance, though. The light of the stars bounce off your face, painting you in the colors of the cosmos.

“Well, then you’re turning into me,” he says, an attempt at a joke. It takes almost half a minute before you laugh, and even then, it’s barely a chuckle - just a breath, carried away into space.

_Thirty seconds_. You would have laughed at that, loud and bright, filling the TARDIS with joy, but you’d paused for thirty seconds. Just staring out, quiet, for thirty seconds. The longest thirty seconds of the Doctor’s life.

He doesn’t want to ask if you’re alright because the answer’s already clear. You glance at him, your gaze watery.

“Sorry,” you say again. You shift closer to the Doctor, and the fuzzy fabric of your blanket brushes against his hand. “I’m alright.”

The Doctor catches the way your voice wavers. You’ve never liked lying. He knows that better than anyone.

“Don’t lie.” He tries to keep the edge out of his voice, but it creeps in. You look up at him - the personification of warmth, and you’re _cold_. “Right. Back to bed with you. Come on.”

The TARDIS doors close quietly with a snap of his fingers. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and you don’t fight back, tiredly stumbling along as he guides you back to your room. The lights are still dim when he pushes the door open, the faint scent of lemongrass wafting through. Silently, he thanks the TARDIS for her help.

You unwrap your blanket cocoon and sink into the sheets, your eyes already drooping. A tear slips out of one of your eyes - the Doctor catches it, brushes his thumb against your cheek before it can travel down the rest of your face. You look up at him sadly, and the look in your eyes rips his hearts in two.

_I’m sorry_ , he wants to say. _This is my fault._ “Get some rest,” he says instead, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll come wake you up tomorrow.”

His hearts still hurting, he moves to leave - but your hand shoots out from underneath your blanket, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Don’t go,” you mumble. Your fingers tighten around his wrist ever so slightly, and you pull him back down. “ _Please_. Don’t leave me alone.”

There’s a moment where the Doctor considers letting go, pulling away. _You can’t run from me forever._

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

He climbs into bed as carefully as he can - this body, with its long limbs, isn’t exactly built for elegance, but he manages anyway. You move closer to him as soon as he’s settled in, shifting so that your head’s resting on his chest, one arm slung over his body.

The Doctor stills at the contact. He can feel the soft puffs of your breath against his chest, feel your hair tickle his skin. _Goo_ _dness_ , it’s been a while since he’s been this close with anyone. He opens his mouth to say something -

Then your breath hitches, and the Doctor starts to feel his shirt getting damp.

He doesn’t even think. His hands travel down and find their way into your hair. He runs his hands through the strands, untangling the knots that he can find and dragging his nails gently across your scalp.

You go quiet, your shaking subsiding. You take a deep breath in and then let it go - the Doctor practically feels the tension leave your body, and you melt against him, giving in to his touch. You make a happy noise, a rumbling sound in the back of your throat. The Doctor’s mind goes completely blank.

_Knock, knock._ The doors to the Doctor’s hearts burst wide open, and love comes rushing through.

You must be able to feel the Doctor’s heartbeats quicken in his chest. He knows, he already knows how you feel, but the rush that overwhelms him is enough to make him stop breathing for a second.

“Doctor?” you ask, muffled against his chest, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless, and this time, he isn’t lying. “Totally fine. Splendid, actually.”

He’s got his chance, finally, and he isn’t going to let it pass him by this time. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his hands still tangled in your hair. You’re warm against him, and he’s so comfortable. He’s almost forgotten what it felt like, being truly home.

“I love you,” he whispers. You snuggle in closer to him, too tired for words, but you mumble something that sounds a lot like “I know”, and that’s enough for him.


End file.
